The Jew looked very blank at this information, and, after ruminating for some minutes with his chin sunk on his breast, raised his head, and said with a deep sigh that, if flash Toby Crackit reported aright, he feared the game was up.
“And yet,” said the old man, dropping his hands on his knees, “it’s a sad thing, my dear, to lose so much when we had set our hearts upon it.”
“So it is,” said Mr. Sikes; “worse luck!”
A long silence ensued, during which the Jew was plunged in deep thought, with his face wrinkled into an expression of villany perfectly demoniacal. Sikes eyed him furtively from time to time; and Nancy, apparently fearful of irritating the housebreaker, sat with her eyes fixed upon the fire, as if she had been deaf to all that passed.
“Fagin,” said Sikes, abruptly breaking the stillness that prevailed, “is it worth fifty shiners extra, if it’s safely done from the outside?”
“Yes,” said the Jew, suddenly rousing himself, as if from a trance.
“Is it a bargain?” inquired Sikes.
“Yes, my dear, yes,” rejoined the Jew, grasping the other’s hand, his eyes glistening, and every muscle in his face working with the excitement that the inquiry had awakened.
“Then,” said Sikes, thrusting aside the Jew’s hand with some disdain, “let it come off as soon as you like. Toby and I were over the garden-wall the night afore last, sounding the panels of the door and shutters: the crib’s barred up at night like a jail, but there’s one part we can crack, safe and softly.”